"Because I'm going away, to Devonshire," she went on. "And I mayn't see you for ever so long, unless you'll come and see me; and Irene Kilnorton says you oughtn't to. But you must. But still it will be days! Oh, how shall I pass days without you? So do forgive me before I go."
"Forgive you!" said he with a little laugh.
"Ah, you do," she sighed. "How good you are, Ashley." She pressed his shoulder with her hand. "I couldn't go on living if it wasn't for you," she said. "Everybody else is so hard to me. I ran away last night because I couldn't bear to lose you!" She paused and moved her face nearer his, as she whispered, "Could you bear to lose me?"
Mr. Metcalfe Brown tumbled off the bed and seemed to stagger across the room towards the mantel-piece.
"No," said Ashley Mead.
"But I'm going away; my boxes are on the cab outside. I daren't stop now he's come; I might meet him; he might—no, I daren't stay." Her voice fell yet lower as she asked, "What did he say? Where is he? What have you done with him?"
Ashley gently raised her hand from his arm, rose, and walked to the fireplace. He looked at her as she bent forward towards him in the tremulous eagerness of her questioning, with fear and love fighting in her eyes, as though she looked to him alone both for safety and for joy. And, as it chanced, Mr. Metcalfe Brown made no sound in the room above; it was possible altogether to forget him.
Ora took the chair that Ashley had left and sat looking at him. For a moment or two he said nothing; it was the pause before the plunge, the last hasty reckoning of possibilities and resources before a great stake. Then he set all on the hazard.
"You needn't have run away," he said in a cool, almost bantering tone. "Fenning didn't turn up at all."